And the Knight Fell
by Silver Foxfire
Summary: Another murder has set Detective Slanzar on a quest to discover who could be behind it...
1. And the Knight Fell

TITLE: And the Knight Fell, Part 1  
AUTHOR: Silver Foxfire  
SERIES: Escaflowne  
RATING: R  
PAIRINGS: Various  
WARNINGS: Yaoi, Gore, Violence, AU, Limón. (Lime/Lemon)  
DISCLAIMER: You all know the drill; I don't own any of these characters, if I did, it would be Canon, not Fan Fiction. :D I make no money off of this, and only would if I spoke frequent and correct Japanese and lived in Japan. ^_~  
  
AND NIGHT FELL (part 1)  
By Silver Foxfire  
  
Prologue:   
  
The limbs of a strong oak creaked in the wind, a groaning cry that echoed through the still woodlands. The sky was black, the stars and moon cloaked in the clouds. Dry leaves tumbles across each other, casting an eerie rattle across the dead grass that filled the forest in the autumn.  
  
"Please, God! Someone help me!!" the pained shriek ripped through the air, shrill and horrified.  
  
A man shrouded in black and dripping with red stumbled through the woods, platinum hair shining dully in the darkness. He tripped, the raised limb of a tree ensnaring his leg. He struggled vainly, looking up in horror as the man in the black cloak came steadily closer, disturbing the crackling foliage beneath his feet. Each step closer sounding like bones cracking as they echoed off the nearby trees.   
  
The faint gleam of metal was accented as the clouds parted just slightly, a beam breaking through the bough of a tree to catch the terrified red eyes of the captured boy. And his final scream echoed through the night...  
  
Chapter 1:   
  
Police crowded the scene, yellow tape marking off the area as a crime scene. A man stood quietly as he took in the area, the blood trail over thirty-yards in length.  
  
"Hey, chief," one man came, standing beside him, "seems like a pretty routine homicide, ignoring the eye thing..."  
  
"The 'eye thing' is just what worries me, Gaddes," the detective murmured. "Who would take the eyes of a victim before they're dead..."  
  
The man known as Gaddes shrugged, running a hand through his black hair, scowling a bit.   
  
"Someone who feels like giving me a shit load of new paperwork."  
  
The detective chuckled before forward to examine the body more closely, the forensics woman staring at him balefully for coming closer.   
  
"Stop that look, Mil. I'm not gonna break anything," he sighed, crouching down beside the corpse.   
  
The body of the local teen hero, the star captain of the soccer team. His body had been mutilated by multiple cuts, stab wounds, and what appeared to be burns. The most notable being the fact that only bloody, gaping sockets stared up toward the sky; devoid of the violet red eyes that had been so praised by his classmates - eyes that seemed to spark with challenge to everyone that he met.  
  
The boy with a relatively long 'bad-boy' reputation. He'd gotten into spats with the detective himself more than a few times for one offense or another. Whether it was drunken brawling or reckless driving, he strove to be on the wrong side of the law.  
  
"Someone had a damn sick hobby..." the forensics woman, Mil, sighed. "All of this was done anti-mortem. Before death."  
  
"Jesus," he muttered, rising again. "How could someone get this many wounds and live through them?"  
  
"That's what I'd like to know. There was a major wound at his thigh that ruptured the artery. He should have been dead in minutes," she scowled. "Instead it looks like he was alive for almost two hours while this was happening."  
  
"Two hours?" the detective murmured, half-fascinated. "Whoever did it must have a knowledge of keeping someone with an arterial wound alive then... And the stab wounds are thin, aren't they? Like a scalpel?"  
  
"Yeah," she agreed, "But they're too deep for a scalpel wound. Those only have a blade of two inches maximum. And the wounds don't OPEN to allow them deeper."  
  
The detective crossed his arms, even a straight razor would have opened up the wounds more than that...  
  
"I think... I know just who to ask about this bullshit..."  
  
===  
  
The house loomed down at a person, like the foundations were broken, the house leaning forward and threatening to fall on you should you upset it. It was just like the man who lived there. The solitary doll-maker who was popular with all of the little girls and boys of the area. The man that could give such gentle smiles to children and cold stares to the parents of said fledglings.   
  
The man was Folken Fanel, the son of a senator, whose origins you don't need to know. He made exquisitely carved dolls from wood, porcelain, and sometimes even gems, should the parent spend the correct amount for such a unique piece. His specialty were the marionettes that danced for the little children on thin strings, moving to the music and singing and talking in their whimsical voices.   
  
"Folken Fanel?" the detective called, knocking on the heavy wooden door that marked the entrance.   
  
Within moments, the man answered, tall and in his workshop apron. He had the hair of some teenage punk, some demented mullet that managed to look non-redneck... Maybe because of the blue hair. Who knew?  
  
"Ah, Mr. Slanzar. How wonderful to see you today. How can I be of assistance?" That same cold aloofness that he cast down on the grown.  
  
"I'm troubled, Folken. We just had another of these homicides. Wounds we can't define and no clues about the killer. I was hoping you might be able to give me some information on a type of carving implement." The detective, Van Slanzar said, tilting his head back slightly to watch the man.  
  
Folken's eyes darkened a bare shade as he guided Van inside.   
  
"I'm happy to cooperate with you, of course. I can only hope that I can be of some aid in this case. Gruesome as it may sound."  
  
"Ah, it is, it is. We have gashes that go six inches deep and an opening the size of a paper cut. We don't have a clue what can make those wounds, since all knives and such would certainly leave a wider entrance." Van ceased suddenly when he noticed a group of children looking at him with wide eyes...  
  
"I told you to stop watching such gory movies," Folken murmured, petting one of the girls on the head affectionately.   
  
"Heh... You know me. Can't help but watch the monster channels..." he moved behind Folken as the man lead him into the private workshop, glass eyes and doll-bodies looming down from shelves.  
  
"Curb your language around the children, please. They won't be innocent for much longer and I'd much rather keep them that way." Folken said, disapproval heavy in his tone.  
  
"Sorry about that. Sometimes I think I just tend to forget that kids exist... Now, about this tool-"  
  
"There's no such carving tool," Folken interrupted, raising a curved chisel. "Most are shaped like this. In the shape of a crescent. And on the occasion that we have a need for a straight blade, they are thick. A thin tool would only wear more quickly and break."  
  
"Ah, I see..." Van murmured, glancing around the room out of habit, hunting for clues. Of which he found none, of course...  
  
His eyes, however fell on a shelf full of marionettes, their eyes closed as though in repose. Folken chuckled.  
  
"Of course you would be drawn to those, Mr. Slanzar," Folken said, setting down his tools to cross the room and gently lift one from the shelf. "And this one, I'm sure, would be of interest to you."  
  
He held one in his hands, a doll who's eyes opened to show a lovely glaze of blue paint. Porcelain features and long golden 'hair' off-set the 17th century style blue military uniform.  
  
"This one is my pride," he said almost affectionately as he brushed fingers over the cool cheeks. "His hair is actually made from gold filament. Sometimes it has to be replaced due to the softness of gold, but he holds up remarkably well..."  
  
"Yeah, it's a damn nice doll," Van said, unnerved by the way that the dolls eyes seemed to follow him. "He have moving eyes, or what..."  
  
Folken chuckled and said, "No, I assure that it's a trick of the light. All people think that painted eyes can watch you..."   
  
He lifted his hands to replace the doll on the shelf, whose eyes slowly closed.  
  
"The only think animated on him are the eyelids..." Folken said, turning to face the detective again.  
  
"Well, I guess that I'll be going. Thanks for all of your help, Folken," he turned to leave before something caught his eye. He moved over to the work table, feeling Folken's eyes on him before he lifted up a half-made doll, only really a head and hair... But it did look remarkably... "When did you start to make this, Folken?"  
  
"It was a request, actually," Folken said, gently taking the piece from him and moving it out of his reach as though he were a two-year-old. "By Cerena Albatou. She asked me last night if I could make a doll of her brother. Why? Is something wrong?"  
  
"I'm not sure yet... Just don't go leaving town, Folken," Van warned as he walked from the workshop, just in time to hear the murmured,   
  
"I never do."  
  
Chapter 2:   
  



	2. And the Knight Fell, Part 2

TITLE: And the Knight Fell, Part 2  
AUTHOR: Silver Foxfire  
SERIES: Escaflowne  
RATING: R  
PAIRINGS: Various  
WARNINGS: Yaoi, Gore, Violence, AU, Limón. (Lime/Lemon)  
DISCLAIMER: You all know the drill; I don't own any of these characters, if I did, it would be Canon, not Fan Fiction. :D I make no money off of this, and only would if I spoke frequent and correct Japanese and lived in Japan. ^_~  
  
AND THE KNIGHT FELL, (part 2)  
By Silver Foxfire  
  
"Be a good girl for your mother," Folken smiled as he ushered two twin girls out of the doors of his theater house.  
  
"Bye-bye, Folken!" one giggled whilst her sister Eriya tugged impatiently on her sleeve.   
  
"Yeah, bye-bye!" Eriya called, anxious to get her special good-bye hug.  
  
Folken knelt down and drew the little girls into his arms, giving them a tight hug that made them squeal and giggle in joy. He released them to their parents soon enough and walked back into his theater, locking the doors behind him.   
  
He shut off the stage lights and turned off the sign. He walked through his house whistling softly until he heard a faint patter and felt a gentle tug on his trouser leg. He glanced down and lifted his doll, his knight.  
  
"Allen, you know that you shouldn't move about without me," he said as he shifted to cradle the doll close to his chest.  
  
He walked down a thin hallway as he moved toward his room, the doll light in his arms. He opened the door to his bedroom and made his way inside, laying Allen gently on a plain white cotton pillow.  
  
Allen watched him, unmoving mouth always gently smiling as Folken undressed. The doll maker slipped into his light blue and white pinstriped shorts as he laid his worn clothing into the laundry hamper. Before he moved back to the bed, he drew out a finely handcrafted dolls chest of drawers, setting it beside Allen.   
  
He watched with a smile as Allen undressed his delicate porcelain body with it's painstakingly small joints and chose to dress as Folken to sleep, in a pair of small boxers shorts made just for him. Folken drew the chest away as he flicked off the lights and climbed into bed, drawing the doll into his arms. As a child might have slept with a stuffed toy.  
  
"Sleep, Allen. While I hold you," he whispered, kissing lightly painted lips.  
  
He felt a chilled hand rest against his cheek as he drew his mouth away, painted eyes slowly closing as the carved hand rested against the cheek of his maker.  
  
====  
  
"And the dragon was slain, the princess saved! All because of the courageous Knight!" Folken said, his marionette Allen slaying the stuffed dragon with shiny scales.  
  
The children giggled happily as they watched the story unfold on the waxed stage. The knight with the golden hair bowed, his silver sword sweeping through the air.  
  
"Again! Again!" they shrieked in joy, "again!"  
  
"Ah, the knight must sleep," Folken smiled, the whines filling the air. "But there is another warrior joining us today."  
  
The happy cries rose again, of the girls and the boys. The small curtain fell; the knight vanishing with his dragon. And when it rose again, there stood the puppet with silver hair and garnet eyes. His red shoulders topped with spikes and his costume made of shiny vinyl.  
  
"Dilandau," he said, "a tribute to a fine man."  
  
And the doll seemed almost to scowl from his alabaster face, the pale hair falling into his face as he began to play his part: tyrant.  
  
End Part 2


	3. And the Knight Fell, Part 3

TITLE: And the Knight Fell, Part 3  
AUTHOR: Silver Foxfire  
SERIES: Escaflowne  
RATING: R  
PAIRINGS: Various  
WARNINGS: Yaoi, Gore, Violence, AU, Limón. (Lime/Lemon)  
DISCLAIMER: You all know the drill; I don't own any of these characters, if I did, it would be Canon, not Fan Fiction. :D I make no money off of this, and only would if I spoke frequent and correct Japanese and lived in Japan. ^_~  
  
AND THE KNIGHT FELL, (part 3)  
By Silver Foxfire  
  
"Any clues?" Gaddes asked, head on his desk.  
  
"No... No clues," Van answered, leaning back in his chair to inspect the masterpiece of sharpened pencils in the ceiling. "And what I want to know, I can't find out."  
  
"What do you want to know, boss?" Gaddes groaned, lifting his head to lift one shiny metal ball and slam it into five others; creating a steady clicking.  
  
"I want to know what the hell made those wounds. The thin cuts that are the same on all six victims."  
  
"Oh, 'bout that. I got a bit of info," he said.  
  
"Gimme!" Van barked, ignoring his pencils in order to push Gaddes into an upright position.   
  
"Mil said that a weapon like that would have to be made new each time. It's razor thin, so it couldn't be sharpened that easy. And dulls damn quick," Gaddes grinned up to the brunette.  
  
"All right... So we're looking for someone that has the time an resources to replace the weapon, or buy it in bulk," Van murmured, seating himself on Gaddes' desk. "I want you to look into Folken again..."  
  
"He's clean as a whistle, Boss," Gaddes said, half protesting.   
  
"Yeah, but this time I want you checking his inventories. What he orders and when."  
  
"Gotcha!"  
  
~*~*~  
  
The counselors were swarming. Crawling over the school to 'comfort' and encourage the students to 'express their feelings'. They hovered close beside Dilandau's best friend in life, simply known as Gatti. The two always seen squabbling in the halls, Dilandau even slapping him a time or two.  
  
"Gatti... Gatti, I'm so sorry!" yet another 'sympathizer' came crying, moving to hug him.  
  
He shoved her away.  
  
"Shut the fuck up," Gatti snapped. "I don't need anymore of you attention-junkies clinging to me and getting snot all over my god-damned shirt!"  
  
A counselor rushed forward. "You yell out of grief!" he cried, why don't you just cry and let it out?!"  
  
Gatti shoved himself away.  
  
"God! Get the hell away from me!" he snarled, abandoning his school bag as he ran from the grounds; past the bicycle security guards that lazily shook their heads at him.   
  
"All this fucking shit..." he swore, running from the school and the memories of the man that wouldn't be there anymore.   
  
"And Dilandau fought the white dragon fiercely as he--"  
  
Gatti halted so swiftly, his body nearly fell from the jar. "Dilandau?" he whispered, glancing toward the softly glowing sign in the window. "'Fanel's Theater...'"  
  
He crept forward toward the clean white doors, half hoping and half fearing what he could... And would find.  
  
End Chapter 3


End file.
